


i believe that you and i belong

by blurred



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, Lilo bromance - Freeform, M/M, Model Harry, Model Zayn, airbnb, anyway we all know they end up together in every alternate universe so, both liam and louis are the heart eye emoji, drunk boys, flatmates, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis and liam live in a shitty flat, the ending is a bit rushed but it was new years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:13:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurred/pseuds/blurred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sure, Green Eyes,” Louis blurted, without thinking. “Oh fuck, sorry, I meant, um, Harry, I’m sorry, shit,” </p><p>Harry seemed unfazed, though. “In that case, Blue Eyes, I’ll be right back.” </p><p> <br/>OR</p><p> </p><p>Liam decides to rent their apartment out on Airbnb and Louis thinks it's an absolutely shitty idea. Until it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i believe that you and i belong

**Author's Note:**

> sooo this is loosely inspired by the 2 broke girls episode titled "and the model apartment" and i wrote this in the hours leading up to 2015 this is what happens on new years eve
> 
> title is from you and i by avalanche city, i hope you enjoy :)

“Come on Louis, stop dicking around, we’ve got work to do!” Liam nagged. Louis gave one of his famous eye rolls. That was the seventh time he’d said that today. Yeah, Louis was counting, so?

“Renting out our shitty apartment on Airbnb doesn’t classify as work, Liam,” Louis muttered lazily. He was plopped on the couch they found in an alley two blocks away. Liam spotted it when they were on the way home from the diner they worked at. He’d always wondered how they haven’t gotten Hep C from it yet.

“We could get money from this, you wanker. Describe our neighbourhood in the nicest way possible, please and thanks,” Liam insisted.

“Excuse me Liam, but if you’re going to hold it against me, then move out,” Louis barked.

“Well, firstly, there are creeps on every corner who will not hesitate to catcall, trust me, I know, the door to our building needs more than three kicks to be opened, our apartment has a rat cave somewhere, I’m sure of it,” Louis continued, letting his mind wander to the worst vocabulary possible. How Liam was going to make this shithole sound appealing, he had no idea.

“The flight of stairs on the fifth floor has a broken step with a huge stash of weed in it, and finally, I repeat, the rat cave, because that alone should be enough to convince anyone that this place is hell on earth.” Louis stared at the ceiling. Wow, a new crack already. He wondered when it was going to fall. Maybe it would fall on Liam. “What do you have so far?”

“I’ve got ‘enthusiastic and friendly neighbours who will not hesitate to provide a warm welcome to all guests, a leg-strengthening station located in the building itself, extremely pet-friendly, leisure activities easily available’,” Liam paused, letting Louis process all the lies that had just come out of his mouth. “Blagging at its finest. We are such liars.”

“We both know you’re the liar and I’m just collateral damage, you arse.”

—

“Oh my god, Louis, we’ve already got three offers,” Liam exclaimed in delight.

“Unbelievable,” Louis grumbled. “It’s like no one respects themselves, nowadays.”

“The first one is from a 40 year old man who-“

“Is probably cheating on his wife,” Louis interjected.

“The second is from a married couple wanting to spend a few days away from home to work on their marriage,” Liam paused, waiting for Louis’ inevitable comment.

“Incoming divorce, obviously.”

“And the third is from a group of male models wanting a quick getaway before their fashion show in a week.”

“Usually I’d be excited, but it’s probably a group of middle aged men wanting to get away from their fiancés before the wedding.”  
—

“Niall’s gone away for the weekend, so we can stay in his flat while the models are here.”

“Models,” Louis mocked. “I hardly think so.”

“Could you please try to act hospitable when they arrive? Maybe if we’re nice they’ll give us tips.” Liam sighed.

“Fine, but only because we’re getting paid for this. When are they coming, anyway?”

“In a few minutes,” Liam began to tuck in his shirt. “Come on, look sharp.”

Louis rolled his eyes. Sometimes, he wonders if one day he’ll roll his eyes too hard at something Liam says and dislocate his eyeball. Is that even a thing? Louis could be the first person to ever achieve that.

The doorbell rang and Liam, as if on cue, ran straight to the door and opened it.

Wow.

The people on the other side of the door were, to put it simply, fucking gorgeous. There was one who looked like his cheekbones were carved by the gods, and another one with eyes so green they looked like the grass in the Microsoft wallpaper. Bad analogies, Louis knew.

Louis kept staring, slack-jawed, at Green Eyes. Was it even possible for someone’s eyes to be THAT green? Oh my god, and he was TALL. Probably 6 foot. Louis’ eyes trailed lower and lower down his body. God, those hands were fucking huge. He tried not to stare at Big Hands’ crotch, but wow, those jeggings are not helping.

Fuck, why isn’t Liam saying anything, Louis wondered. He peeled his eyes off Tight Jeans and used the tip of his foot to kick Liam’s sole. “Talk, you idiot! Stop staring at Cheekbones!” Louis spoke from the corner of his mouth.

Liam finally regained consciousness and started speaking his rehearsed line. “Hi! I’m Liam, this is Louis, and this is our apartment! I hope you all enjoy your stay, and , er, payment is to be made right now, if that’s okay, thanks,” Liam blurted, all in one breath. Louis didn’t blame him. These people were fucking beautiful. And Louis is 90% sure he saw Green Eyes in some ad for Saint Laurent or Gucci or some fancy shit. Then he starts talking.

“Hi, I’m Harry, and this is Zayn,” he gestures to Cheekbones, “and those are just some of our friends, it’s nice to meet you.”

Louis is fucking gobsmacked. Big Hands’ voice is so deep and hoarse and Bryan Adams-like, and the way he talks, all slow and languid, fuckfuckfuck. Louis is falling deeper and deeper and he’s only met this guy for two minutes.

“Come in, make yourselves at home. We’ll just be upstairs if you need us!” Liam stammered.

“This is a really nice place. Is it okay if we have a party later? Just a few friends, it won’t be too loud.” Fuck, if Green Eyes, Harry, speaks any more, Louis might have to undergo therapy.

“You can be as loud as you want, no one here really gives a shit,” Louis smiled, trying to play it cool.

“Oh, okay, that’s nice. Will we get to see you later?” Harry questioned. The question felt like it was directed to the both of them but his eyes were staring directly at Louis’. Fuck. Louis felt inadequate. He should’ve listened to Liam and dressed smarter.

“Yeah, sure, um, we’ll be upstairs, um, we’ll let you get settled in, then, bye.” Liam dashed out of the apartment, his cheeks flushing red.

—

“That was so embarrassing, Liam, what the fuck,” Louis exclaimed once they were out of earshot from the models. “They look like real fucking models.”

“That’s because they are, you idiot,” Liam wailed. “Harry Styles and Zayn Malik, they’re on like every fucking billboard, how do you not know who they are? They’re fucking supermodels, man.”

“Fuck, Harry Styles is so beautiful, I think I’m in love,” Louis hollered. “Fuck, do you think they heard us?”

The door of their apartment opened. “We sure did, mate, thanks for the compliments!” Harry poked his head through the doorway, with a shit-eating grin on his face. Okay, Louis is most definitely in love. Fuckshitdamn. “Hey, you guys can come to the party later, if you want. Just give your name to the doorman!”

“Doorman? What the fuck Liam, what the fuck,” Louis breathed. “There are real fucking supermodels living in our apartment.”

They were both still in disbelief. There was going to be a party in THEIR apartment with a DOORMAN, fucking amazing.

—

“Hi, Liam and Louis, we’re on the list.” Louis told the doorman. Fuck, he felt important. Never in his life did he ever imagine himself giving his name to a doorman and being let in.

“Louis!”

Louis spun around. He could recognise that voice from miles away. He saw Harry, beautiful famous Harry Styles, walking towards him.

“Can I get you a drink?” Harry asked politely. God, are famous people really that nice? Louis was hopelessly endeared, and also a tiny bit high. What, the weed on the fifth floor wasn’t going to smoke itself.

“Sure, Green Eyes,” Louis blurted, without thinking. “Oh fuck, sorry, I meant, um, Harry, I’m sorry, shit,”

Harry seemed unfazed, though. “In that case, Blue Eyes, I’ll be right back.”

He strut towards the drinks table, looking oh so elegant even though everyone around him was piss drunk. Louis watched his every move, watched him walk towards the makeshift bar that was once his kitchen counter, watched him speak to the bartender (fuck, a BARTENDER in his apartment, who would’ve thought), and watched him walk back to Louis, two glasses in his hand.

Fuck. Harry Styles was ethereal.

—  
Louis didn’t know how exactly he got this drunk, but soon, he was sitting on his ratty couch, with Harry Styles next to him, giggling about celebrities and their scandalous lives.

“I met Simon Cowell at some party last year, I forgot which, and fuck, you should see him drunk,” Harry yelled, through fits of laughter. “Holding up a champagne glass toasting to the New Year when it was fucking July!”

“There’s something about famous people that make them a thousand times funnier when they’re drunk, I presume,” Louis snickered, “Including you.”

“What do you mean? I’m still sober even when I’m drunk!”

“That didn’t even make sense, and no, have you seen yourself drunk?” Louis retorted. “Laughing like a feral cat at things that aren’t even remotely funny, don’t lie to yourself!”

“I don’t laugh at everything, you know! And also, you should be honoured I tell you my funny jokes,” Harry sniffed. “Most people think I’m some stone cold person with no emotions and no sense of humour just because my voice sounds morbid, but really, I’m fucking hilarious!”

“Well, I’d have to disagree on the funny jokes thing, those are terrible, Styles,” Louis paused for dramatic effect. “But I have to agree, you are fucking hilarious. Not your jokes though, just,” Louis swallowed. “Just, you in general.”

Louis felt the conversation getting a little bit too heartfelt. A declaration of undying love was coming up and Louis knew that if he didn’t leave this conversation right now he’d be embarrassing himself in front of a supermodel that could probably ruin his life with the snap of a finger. He couldn’t bring himself to get up, though. Sweet, innocent Harry Styles. He’d been talking to Louis the entire time he was here, and Louis felt bad for even thinking of leaving.

They continued conversations about the most random of things. Louis never expected himself to get so chummy with a celebrity as to talk to them about dicks, but soon, they were talking about which way they tuck their dicks into jeans, how they control semis in public, and Louis was fucking whipped for this boy. He may be twenty years old but he acted like a fucking five year old, and Louis wasn’t ashamed to admit that Harry Styles was a man after his own heart.

They fall asleep, limbs tangled together on the sofa, Louis’ face buried into Harry’s hair. Blue Eyes and Green Eyes.

—

Louis woke up with a start. He not only had a pounding headache, but he also woke up with someone’s hair in his face. Even if the hair smelled like fucking strawberries and everything good in life. It took a while before he vaguely recalled the events of the night before.

“Holy shit, I spooned Harry Styles,” he said out loud, before realising that he obviously wasn’t alone in this flat.

Louis blinked a couple of times, adjusted his vision, and dragged himself over to the curtains, drawing them closed. Fuck the sunrise, he thought. He looked around and saw random bodies everywhere. Cheekbones, wait, Zayn, and Liam were sprawled on the kitchen floor, bodies pressed together. Louis smirked. He was gonna tease Liam about this later.

“G’morning, love,” a deep voice rumbled from behind him. Louis didn’t know whether to be turned on by how raspy Harry’s morning voice was, or be fucking shocked at how deep it could go. This boy wasn’t kidding about his voice being morbidly deep, he thought.

“Sleep well?” Louis asked, hoping that he’d mention the spooning.

“Yeah, since we cuddled,” Harry smirked. “I enjoyed that a lot.”

“Me too.” Louis searched his eyes for any other expression. “Um, so, um, what now?”

“Did you forget what you said last night?”

“What did I say, oh my god, if I said I was madly in love with you, I’m so sorry if that was too forward but I don’t know what I say when I’m fucking drunk,” Louis babbled, getting a string of apologies ready in his mind.

“You did say that, and you said I was, I quote, fucking gorgeous with eyes that are too fucking green it’s so unfair,” Harry started, his voice laced with amusement.

Louis suddenly remembered that whole conversation. Or, well, parts of it. He couldn’t remember what he was saying, but he knew it had to be something embarrassing as hell, because Harry was fucking cackling throughout.

“Fuck, did I also say the thing about me wanting to marry you and have fifty children because they’d have a mix of blue and green eyes?” Louis didn’t need to wait for a response. The loud laugh from Harry was enough confirmation that yes, he did say that.

“I’m sorry, I came on too strong, um,” Louis sputtered, not knowing what to say to clear his name.

“Marriage was definitely too strong,” Harry began. Louis’ face was turning redder and redder by the second. “How about a date, first?”

“Wait, what?” Louis was dumbfounded. “Aren’t you, like, creeped out by me, or whatever?”

“Why would I? I’m not going to mention the things I said to you, since you don’t remember them, but it was equally embarrassing,” Harry divulged. “But it was comforting to know that we, you know, swing the same way, and feel the same things, if you’re getting what I mean,”

Louis remembered again. They were both gushing on and on about Magic Mike. As Louis confessed his undying and everlasting love for Channing Tatum, Harry turned to him and said something along the lines of “not as beautiful as you”. That was when Louis totally zoned out and forgot everything that happened from then onwards.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved, because, fuck, Harry Styles called him beautiful, even after he basically proposed to him, or scared, because where was this thing, if it even was a thing, going?

“So, that date?”  
 “I’d love to, Green Eyes.”

—

Louis didn’t know how everything progressed so fast, but he knew that he was in love ever since he saw the enigma that is Harry beautiful gorgeous morbidly deep voice Styles standing in his doorway. Now, he was sitting front row in London Fashion Week, known to the public as “the boyfriend of Mr Styles”.

Who would’ve thought his shitty apartment, and Liam’s flair for deceit and trickery on Airbnb would lead to something of this magnitude. Louis doesn’t know how many times he’s drunk-proposed to Harry, or how many times he’s told Harry he wants to have his babies, but damn, he was fucking whipped.

—

A year later, Louis found himself in the same exact seat, in the same fashion show, but now known as “Louis Tomlinson, husband of Harry Tomlinson.”

 

 

_“people fall in love in mysterious ways_  
 _maybe it’s all part of a plan”_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! you can find me at rolllingtides on tumblr or bloumide on twitter :)


End file.
